


Autumn Leaves

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Feelings, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Nostalgia, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 13:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: The leaves always make Steve think of Tony.





	Autumn Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my Happy Steve Bingo square "Deciduous/Falling leaves in Autumn"

The leaves always make Steve think of Tony.

He can't help it. The met in the fall, surrounded by orange and red and yellow. When he sees the grass covered in a kaleidoscope of autumn colours, he always imagines Tony standing among them, laughing, a dark blue scarf wound messily around his neck.

It's impossible not to remember walking hand in hand through this very park, Tony's chilled fingers stuffed in Steve's pocket as protection against the rising wind. It's hard not to miss those fingers, not to feel even colder with them gone. It's hard not to listen to the rustle of leaves underfoot and ache that it's only his boots stirring them up now.

Steve digs the last bite of danish out of the paper bag then crumples it up into a ball and tucks it under his leg so it won't blow away. The tips of his ears are starting to burn with cold that cuts right through the loose knit of his hat. He makes a note to upgrade to a thicker one before winter sets in properly.

The changing colours always make Steve think of Tony. They broke up in the fall. Two years together and as the trees shed their leaves, Steve tried to shed his life of the little pieces of Tony that had piled up on shelves and in the corners of rooms. He stood on the grass outside their apartment building, a bonfire of leaves crunching under his nervous feet and tried not to fall apart as Tony climbed into the taxi.

Steve had thought he couldn't do long distance, that having a piece of Tony and no more would be too much to bear. They wouldn't have been able to afford to see each other more than once or twice a year. But the opportunity was too good for Tony to pass up. Steve wanted every happiness for Tony more than he wanted Tony for himself.

That, he doesn't regret. But he regrets not striving for a middle ground. He regrets making Tony think he wasn't wanted at all, instead of Steve wanting him so badly he had to let him go. Now, three years later, it's easy to simmer with anger at himself for handling it the way he did. He doesn't want the crisp air, slow cooker meals, hands in pockets, and messy knit scarves spoiled by the late night fights and the endless spirals of anger and frustration. He doesn't want to look at this park and think about the way Tony's face had fallen when he said, "I guess I'll go then," too calm and too cold. He'd left the next day, and Steve hadn't seen him since.

Steve called him, once, last fall. When the leaves fell down and the days shortened and he curled up with coffee in his gloved hands in the early afternoon. But Tony hadn't answered and Steve couldn't find the words to leave a message.

They've been apart longer than together at this point, but for Steve those two years will always be worth so much more than that. He'd trade the next ten to get those two back again.

The coffee cup is almost empty and the cold is starting to seep back into Steve's fingers. He blows on them, but it only helps for a moment. There's a memory that surges forward, pressing ahead of the others. Tony on his back in the grass, extra vibrant green under the layer of leaves. He's laughing, gloved hands pawing at Steve's shoulders while Steve blows a raspberry into the ticklish part of Tony's neck, under his chin. Steve can remember the way his knees felt as they dug up against Steve's ribs, trying in vain to shove him away, the way he snorted when he laughed, unable to breathe properly through his giggles. He can remember the way Tony sighed when he managed to pull Steve into a kiss instead: like everything was just right.

Steve knocks back the rest of his coffee, and his phone buzzes in his pocket as he licks the last drop off the rim. He sets his coffee cup aside and digs his phone out with a grimace. It's still vibrating which means a phone call. Phone calls are rarely good.

The number isn't one he recognizes and he considers letting it go to voicemail, but he hates calling people back almost as much as he hates answering calls in the first place.

"Steve Rogers."

"Wow," says a painfully familiar voice. "Hi."

Steve sucks in a cool breath and blinks at the leaves around him. Did he summon some sort of hallucination with his daydreams, with his memories? "... Tony?" he tries, barely able to manage more than a whisper.

"Oh shit," Tony says breathlessly. "I had this horrible feeling you wouldn't recognize me."

"I'd know you anywhere," Steve says firmly, because he's lost and confused right now, but that he's always sure of.

"Wow," Tony says again.

Silence settles around him like the leaves for a moment. Steve tries to process what's happening. "Is everything okay?" he finally asks, stomach sinking down to the ground. "Is everyone alright?" Why else would Tony call him but for some horrible news?

"Oh yeah, sorry. Everything's fine." Tony's voice is soft. There's a new, grown-up edge to it, maybe honed over the past few years, but he's still Tony, through and through. "I just - I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have called."

"I'm glad you called!" Steve blurts out. He crushes his pastry wrapper in his fist and tries to grapple with the desire to launch himself through the phone and wrap his fingers around Tony's sleeve so he can't leave. "Really glad."

"Oh." Tony sounds honestly surprised. But pleased. "Oh good. I thought you might not want to talk to me."

"Of course I want to talk to you." He's spilling everything, nothing held back, but does it really matter? What's the benefit in playing it cool here? He has nothing to lose and everything to gain if Tony wants back into his life at all, in any way. "I miss you so much."

"That's good. Great. I miss you too." Steve can hear Tony's smile in his voice. Silence falls again, but it's more comfortable this time, and Steve's reminded of hot summer days lying under a humming fan, too sweaty to move, touching nothing but their pinkie fingers together. He's reminded of late winter nights, curled together under a blanket, half watching a movie, half drifting off in each other's arms. He's reminded of sunny spring mornings, sharing coffee on the fire escape, listening to nothing but the birds celebrating the receding frost.

Steve gazes out at the blanket of fallen leaves at his feet and thinks about second chances.

"Steve," Tony says, and it's sweet and soft and perfect and _everything,_ the way he says his name. "I always think about you in this weather."

Steve clutches the phone against his cheek as tightly as he can, heart swelling with something indescribable and insurmountable. "Me too," he whispers. "Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can follow me on tumblr at festiveferret.tumblr.com <3
> 
> Now with AMAZING art from words-aremy-weapons [HERE](http://festiveferret.tumblr.com/post/181858522475/words-aremy-weapons-excuse-the-crappy-ness-of)


End file.
